Chapter 80
Chapter 80
Translation: godsn
The maid began to sob. In the drawing room where no one dared to speak first, her pitiful weeping was the only sound that rose high and clear.
"My goodness. To feign illness..."
Elise von Herhardt's gaze, fixed on the maid's hands covering her face, dripped with undisguised contempt. The maid's unwrapped hand bore nothing but a shallow cut—perfectly fine by any measure. No matter how one looked at it, the injury was nowhere near severe enough to prevent her from working.
"What an utterly brazen girl."
Katharina von Herhardt clicked her tongue in disbelief, her eyes equally frosty. Between them, Claudine sat with lips tightly sealed. Even her hands, neatly folded on her lap, were stiff with tension.
"Take another careful look, Doctor."
Matthias, who had remained silent until now, slowly spoke up. His tilted head as he regarded Dr. Etman still bore an expression of grave seriousness.
"Perhaps there's bone damage we cannot see."
"Your Grace, that's..."
Dr. Etman trailed off awkwardly. The moment he'd unwrapped the bandages from the maid's hand—a maid who'd been dragged in pale with fright—the truth had laid itself bare.
"Aside from a minor laceration, there appears to be no other injury."
At the doctor's deliberately steady report, sighs and murmurs broke out around the room. Yet Claudine's posture remained rigid. Though her eyes flickered faintly, the waver was so slight one might miss it if not looking closely.
"Yet I was told her hand was grievously wounded—so much so that she could not perform her duties. Isn't that correct, Lady Brandt?"
Matthias frowned at Claudine as if utterly baffled. All eyes turned to her at once.
"...Yes. I truly believed that was the case."
"Then this maid has deceived you."
"As much as I dislike to admit it, it seems so."
Claudine met the maid's gaze briefly before answering calmly.
Matthias rose from his chair and approached the trembling, weeping maid. As if resolved to shoulder all blame, the maid kept her lips tightly pressed together, doing nothing but cry. In that desperate display, Matthias discovered yet another merit in Claudine von Brandt—she knew how to wield her people effectively. A rather commendable quality for a future Duchess.
"Deceived..."
A faint laugh laced Matthias's voice. The maid flinched, lowering her hands from her face to stare up at him with terrified eyes. Matthias gladly met her tearful gaze.
"You dared... to lie... to my woman."
With each word, his voice grew softer, lower. The emotion in his downward gaze seemed less like anger and more akin to fascination.
"Please forgive Marie, Duke Herhardt. Let me apologize on her behalf."
Claudine finally intervened. Though Countess Brandt tried to restrain her, Claudine shook off the hand and approached her maid—who looked ready to faint any moment.
"Marie must have been under great strain lately. It's also my fault for failing to notice a maid so desperate for rest that she resorted to lies. Please, if not for her sake, then for mine."
"To apologize for a maid who deceived her mistress. How magnanimous of you, my lady."
"She's served me for many years. Though she's committed this foolish act, I cannot coldly cast someone aside for a single mistake."
Cornered, Claudine grew bolder instead.
"I trust Duke Herhardt understands this sentiment better than anyone. After all, you showed mercy to that gardener who caused such a grave incident—allowing him to remain at Arvis through your generosity."
Claudine's stare at Matthias was piercingly cool. If this were a game where the more composed and brazen party won, she was certain she wouldn't lose. Even if he knew everything, that man would never reveal a thing.
Matthias studied Claudine for a long moment before finally nodding with a quiet smile.
"It seems the Young Lady, who once questioned my decision not to dismiss the gardener, has now come to understand my reasoning."
Caught off guard by this unexpected counter, Claudine drew a sharp, silent breath.
"To possess such breadth of understanding and tolerance—how admirable. Seeing such excellence in the Young Lady makes me inclined to forgive even a maid foolish enough to commit such an act."
As Matthias spoke in a tone one might use to praise a well-behaved child, Claudine's cheeks gradually began to flush.
"But Young Lady, if forgiveness is to be granted, shouldn't this maid who dared such an outrageous act also make amends?"
"I... I will visit Leila tomorrow with Marie."
"Why?"
"Because the one who suffered most from my maid's lies was that girl."
Claudine struggled to compose herself, but ultimately crumbled under the weight of humiliation. Her face was now burning crimson.
"Ah. I suppose that's true."
Matthias tilted his head slightly, his eyes narrowing.
"But isn't it rather absurd for the Young Lady to accompany her? Wouldn't that make it seem as though the fault lies with you?"
"She's right, Claudine. It's merely your maid's foolish mistake—why must you personally apologize to that girl?"
Countess Brandt, who had been observing, chimed in. As Claudine's agitation grew, Matthias remained composed.
"Leave the atonement to the maid who committed the wrongdoing. After all, the Young Lady's dignity reflects upon my own as well."
Before Matthias's expression that seemed almost consoling, Claudine felt a chill seep deep into her bones. She suddenly felt like a fool for attempting to engage in this battle of wits with him. Ridiculous as it was, she found some solace in the fact that this chillingly cold-blooded man held affection not for her, but for Leila Lewellin.
"...Yes, Duke Herhardt."
With that single response, Matthias skillfully drove Claudine into a corner. Yet even as he finally forced her submission, not a trace of joy or satisfaction surfaced on his face. Instead, he turned his gaze back to the maid, lowering his eyes.
"Remember this well, Marie."
Matthias's glance, having brushed past Claudine, settled on the maid's ashen face.
"Just how great a mercy your mistress has shown you."
The annex lay submerged in darkness by the riverbank, its lights extinguished. Matthias's exhale dispersed white into the frozen night air.
Just as he had resolved to head toward the gardener's cottage, he changed his mind and strode up the annex steps instead. That foolish woman might not have even bothered to light a lamp.
The sound of the locked door opening and closing faded, leaving the annex in silence once more. Inside, not a single lamp or fireplace was lit, leaving only a chill swirling through the air. Though he was now certain Leila hadn't come, Matthias nevertheless took his time surveying the annex. Just in case. He couldn't shake that faint hope—or perhaps concern.
His gaze, calm as the darkness itself, swept over the interior where no trace of human presence could be found. With each step, his lips grew drier as his fingers brushed against the edge of the box buried deep in his coat pocket.
The cold seemed to have devoured the entire annex, accumulating in his absence. By the time he reached the bedroom door, he found himself hoping Leila had stubbornly disobeyed his orders. That wish seemed granted—the bedroom, like the other rooms, was dark and still. Matthias's brow furrowed just as he turned to leave in relief.
Surely not.
He swallowed a sigh of denial, but his eyes, now adjusted to the dark, saw clearly. A woman sat curled in the wingchair by the extinguished fireplace. Coiled tightly like a young creature in its mother's womb, Leila lay fast asleep. Bundled in her coat, gloves, and scarf, she still looked woefully unprepared against this cold.
Matthias unclenched the fist he had been tightening and dragged his hand down his face. She's so stubborn about everything else, yet only compliant at times like this. Swallowing back the curses rising in his throat along with a dry gulp, he took a step forward—just as Leila's eyes fluttered open. Her face, freshly woken, was unguarded. Of course, it didn't take long for anger, terror, and then deep resignation to stain that pale face like blotches of ink.
"First, you refuse to starve to death, and now you're determined to freeze to death, is that it?"
Matthias strode to the fireplace and lit the fire. It was a simple matter of setting flame to the already stacked firewood.
"Or do you not even know how to light a fire?"
Turning his back to the roaring flames, Matthias looked down at Leila. She remained curled into herself, glaring up at him.
"Then it would be seen."
"What would?"
"The smoke. From the chimney."
As the firelight spread, Leila's face became even clearer—pale as death, as if she might slip into eternal sleep at any moment without anyone finding it strange.
"Smoke shouldn't rise from an empty house."
"Who would come here at this hour?"
"I still don't like it."
Leila unwrapped her arms from around her knees and slowly lowered her feet to the floor. Matthias's lips twisted as he watched her sluggish movements, rubbing her gloved hands together.
"Then shouldn't you have considered going back?"
"You ordered me to wait, Your Grace."
"Since when have you ever obeyed my orders so faithfully?"
"If I weren't here, you would come."
Despite her weak voice, the look she shot him was sharp as a blade.
"I'd rather freeze to death than let you into my home."
"Oh? Then I'll be sure to stop by your cabin sometime."
Matthias tossed another log into the fire, stoking the flames higher.
"Since you hate it so much, I'll make sure you cry beautifully."
"I really dislike you. I hate you."
"Put in a little more effort, Leila. The same old lines are getting dull."
"Then I'm glad. I have zero desire to entertain you, Your Grace."
Seeing her retort so clearly and without hesitation, it seemed she wouldn't freeze to death after all.
With a dry chuckle, Matthias flung his coat onto the bed bench. Leila flinched and tried to stand, but Matthias was far quicker, sweeping her up into his arms before she could react.
Holding her squirming, frigid body tightly against him, Matthias sank deeply into the chair she had just vacated. After struggling futilely for a long moment, Leila suddenly went limp and still. Matthias's fingers, gently stroking her hair, slowed even further.
"Please, just get it over with quickly today."
Leila, her face resting quietly against his shoulder, whispered as if sighing. Matthias's hand, which had been idly toying with her loosely braided hair, froze abruptly.
"Get what over with?"
His voice was as cold as the air in the room.
"Whatever. Whatever you want to do."
Leila lifted her head weakly and looked at him. Her eyes were like those of an old woman worn down by life's hardships.
"No matter what I say, you'll do exactly as you please anyway... So if you're going to, just hurry up."
Her trembling lashes cast shadows over her reddened eyelids. Her gaze, fixed on empty air, no longer looked at Matthias at all.
"I... I just want to go back and rest."